Shades of the Vampire
by Firestar77
Summary: What happens when Angels Demons do battle?An unholy,no win situation.Outnumbered,the Angels find themselves in need of help,and seek out the children of the shadow,the Vampires.Will the Demons win or can victory by the Vampires be within the prophecy?
1. The Beginings of the Vampiric Nephalim

The Beginings of the Vampiric Nephalim

Streets glistened with midnight dew, wisps of steam rising in the moon light. The darkness embraced the still sleeping world like an infant cocooned in a blanket. It's here, in the blackest night, that evil thrives on the ebb of the human soul. Unbound and unfettered, roaming the streets of the city like cats on the prowl. The undead walk, crawl and fly, stalking anyone caught roaming outside...in the darkness...in the night...in their time. People, unaware, leaving doors unlocked and windows open. Relying on their Gods to protect them from what the night conceals. The Gods had no combat for Evil's earthly form, until they found the shadow that linked the two worlds. Light and dark, right and wrong, good and evil. All bound by that grey substance, the penumbra, the shadow. Many thought vampires existed only in fairy tales. Grisley monsters devouring the flesh or sultry humanoids engaging in sins of the flesh and coruption of the body and soul. Whatever they maybe, the key to the Gods maintaining balance in the realm of good and evil remained in the potential of these mythic creatures. And so angels were sent to earth to find the vampires and request their assistance.

Yet among the vampires was a legend, a tome wrapped in flesh, inked in blood and enchanted with both good and evil. They called it the "Tome of the Penumbra", or the book of the shadow. And in it was prophesised the rise of the vampire clans, the myth of the daywalker, warnings of the great hunters, hints at the future heros of the vampire nation, and the coming of the angels. The tome fortold of how together angels and vampires would create "the balance". So the vampires waited for the coming of the angels and the angels dreaded the coming distortion of the shadows, for they knew the truth...the "Tome of the Penumbra" had infact been inked by them centuries earlier. And the next chapter would be the total USE of the vampire nation to better the whole world, but somehow that dishonest using of the vampires did not feel right to the Angels. However, under orders from their Gods and bound to the sworn oaths they had to uphold, the Angels forged ahead with prophecy.

Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel and the other archangels lead the brigades of angels into the night, steel in hand, light in their souls to search for the vampires...yet the darkness found them first. Demons sprang forth from the darkest corners and the pavement pulsed with the corrupted filth of zombies and lost souls. Black blood oozed from every festering wound the angels inflicted on the legions of undead, and the fight raged from sundown to sun up nightly. The angels bore their wounds like the proud children of light that they were, standing tall every night, raging into endless batle, and mending their wounds in the day. Broken wings and blood lined the streets. In the morning, the light of the day destoryed the evidence of the nightly street wars, so that human kind may never know of the war that raged under their very noses. The Gods looked down and worried that perhaps they had gone too far with total free will. Night after night the darkness gained ground. Night after night, the angels finite numbers dwindled. Yet their battle did not go unnoticed. The vampires watched, hidden away in the shadows.

The council of elders mulled over the dilemma before them. The Tome spoke of the coming of the angels, but it did not speak of endangering the vampire nation in a war that no one could ever win. Yet it was decided that good needed to maintain balance, if it did not evil would be free to plunder the known world, and the vampires would be doomed to soul-less annhilation. Special squads of Vampire hunters were released into the city to assist the forces of good. More angels were sent to replace those who lost their spirits to the forces of darkness. At the appearance of the Vampires, Gabriel, messenger of the Gods, and second only to the Archangel Michael gave the order to begin the prophecy. For a moment the war stopped, silence became a weight on every creatures chest. Gabriel wondered, only for a moment if this was the wrong move to make, and then that second was gone and the war raged on. The Grigori had come, the prophecy had begun, and the Grigori started by claiming the best of the female vampire warriors, and the prophecy unfolded into it's true and blinding path, a path well out of control of the angels who had penned it..

The Grigori, sometimes called "fallen angels", said to have mated with human women centuries passed, creating "Giants" in the book of Genesis, opening the Bible. They were real and they had returned to the world of men on a mission from the Gods. Take to bed the vampire women and create the solution to maintaining the balance of good and evil. The Vampiric Nephalim. Nephalim were the superhuman offspring of Humans and Angels..Angels with Freewill. The mating was painful, the gestation was quick, and the birthing destroyed the womans body so no other abominations could be conceived. The "Children of the Shadows", as the vampire/angel spawn had come to be called, grew swiftly and at puberty went from mere, powerless humans to a fantastic summation of their heritage.

Their form was spectatular. They found themselves to be beautiful, sultry humanoids, with wings of white feathers, the ability to create minor miracles, and the hunger for blood. They found themselves impervious to all forms of death...save for beheading. Their angel side made them impervious to the typical crosses, holy water, stakes through the heart, and sunlight weakness of vampire lore. The vampire side kept them safe from eye gouges, that could typically destroy an angel's soul, and gave them super human power, speed and the compulsion over human minds.. However, they also retained their human side...and there was no amount of supernatural breeding that could stop the culminations of human thought and the erratic response to human emotions. From this they found that nusaince, free will, back to it's old tricks, and while most of the new army fought for good, a few were coerced into the darkness. It is thought that this was freewill's little way of maintaining the balance in the game of light versus darkness, in it's own distored way, of course.


	2. Chapter 1: Slaves of the Prophecy

_**Chapter 1: Slaves of the Prophecy**_

And so darkness fell over the world. Like a leaden blanket upon empty, glistening streets. One of the first vampire groups sent to aid the Angelic Army was "Darkblayde". Darkblayde was a small, specialized assault group, taken from the best warriors Clan Phyrehawk had to offer. If any group could test the water's for the vampire nation, and survive any outcome, it was Darkblayde. And so Darkblayde went out on their first mission for the Angelic Wars. To clean out a temple of evil, located in the center of Hoboken. Well, if evil was to be found somewhere, Hoboken seemed as good a place as any.

The sounds of fear filled the night air like the subtle distortions of a moth's flapping wings before a flame. To her super sensitive ears doors were being barred, deadbolts rammed home, and alarms were being set. Not that those trivial things could even begin to keep out the evil that lurked outside, the war looming outside every front stoop. Phyrestar, or "Star" as she was more commonly known, was not afraid, she was not even nervous, this was her purpose, what she lived for. Thousands of years ago, she was born to an Irish/Italian family, in a small village in southern Ireland. She was snatched from her bed one night by a group of roaming vampires. Her parents, herself and her youngest brother were turned, her middle brother was in town and missed the turning. Later on the human brother, lost to his family, was caught by another Clan and turned. It became Star's mission to find him and bring him home with the other family members. Her first vampire kill had been out of passion for her own family. She may have belonged to Clan Phyrehawk now, but blood was blood, and her brother had to come home to the rest of his family.

Her success in this lone venture to rescue her lost brother made her one of the favorites among the vampire elders, the ancient vampires who had originated the clans. Tonight the elders called on her to preform again with her team, and she would not let the elders down. She had never failed and tonight was not going to be that night either. Angels or not, she would not, could not lose. She felt the comforting weight of , "Phoenix Star" Clan Phyrehawk 's short sword on her hip. On her weapon belt down her right leg, a modified glock. Across her back, her sniper rifle. Both guns were commissioned specifically for her and both were modified to fire silver , holy water, or standard rounds. On her black leather vest, 6 inch spikes of solid silver. Her body was average height, but thin, giving her the illusion of height. She wore knee high, black leather boots, and black leather pants that hugged her thin frame. Above her right bicep was a tattoo of a phoenix, wings spread, fire trailing, with a luminous star wrapped in it's flaming talons.

The elders sent her for a reason, she was one of the best, and her team was incomparable. Her long, auburn and honey hair blew loose and unfettered in the damp night air. Her blue-green eyes were rare, intuitive, and observant. She hiked across the sky, roof top to rooftop, all the while watching her team move in the shadows below her. She looked down at her mate, the one that she sired and kept for her own. His blood called to her, she always knew where he was and even his thoughts were often no secret to her.

His name was Wolf. He was given the title Phyre when Star sired him into the Clan. The team still called him Wolf, the elders and formality called him Phyrewolf, behind closed doors Star called him lover. The day Star laid eyes on him in dark and dingy pub, his blood sang to her. Out of the fifty other people in the building that night she gave into her hunger, it was his blood and soul that sang the loudest. His soul already belonged to the night, she simply awoke his dark potential. His dark, mysterious eyes were only visible when he looked up at the night sky and caught the reflection of the stars in them. He was strong and skilled, he wielded his black bladed Clan Phyrehawk daggers, "Darkstorm" and "Shadow Wraith" with deadly intent. He was nothing more then a shadow in his black leather pants and blackened chain mail shirt. Soft soled leather boots made him silent to all but the most sensitive ears. He was the scout/planner of the team. He got the info and relayed it with suggested plans to Star. Even though Star sired him and was technically his master, she had only ever once used her command voice on him. For the past several years they had been friends, lovers and equals.

Behind Wolf trailed Hardcore, Star's lost brother. He was sired by a different vampire, but upon his master's untimely death at the hands of Star, he was freed. She fought to have him brought into Clan Phyrehawk as a member, so he could reside in safety with his family. She got him a home yet could not get him a title. Not being sired by a Clan Phyrehawk member, ancient rules stated he could not obtain a Phyre title. Yet, on the ancient registry he worked his way up to Honored Clan Member status by doing many deeds and much work for the Clan. He was equal in all but name. With sandy brown hair kept short, and intense blue eyes, his average frame drifted in and out of shadows like a ghost on the move. For his exceptional service with Clan Phyrehawk he was granted clan blade, "Gryphon's Rage". Clan Phyrehawk's long sword, that he wore across his back with pride, and in his hand a black-bladed dagger. He also wore black leather pants, a blackened chain mail shirt, and soft soled black leather boots, identical to Wolf's. He was the team's muscle, the trained killer hidden behind the veil of youth. He was dangerous, and calculating, but his battle rage in desperate situations is what won him "Gryphon Rage" and the Clan's respect. He was a warrior, and he was the best at what he did.

On the side of the street where Star ran the rooftops "Phyrerage", or "Rage" as he was more commonly known, was moving silently below. Rage is Star's youngest brother. Another seasoned warrior covered in the veil of youth. He was thin, and wiry, yet had broad shoulders and strong arms. His dark, rangy hair and blue eyes were those of a hardened brawler, yet his eyes were always under layed with humor. The command voice was used frequently on him, for he was a free spirit. He followed with Star, closely linked, and was her shadow always. He always showed up just in time to deflect a well aimed bullet or an errant sword swing. Like a dark guardian angel. The brothers were family and blood defended blood to the death, yet they were also distant. Years of being separated caused a rift that was very hard to heal. But they were working on it and now her squad was top notch due to the link the two brothers found that they could fight for together, Star. Both would protect her to the death and she would do the same for them. Their blood ran deep, and pity not those fools who try and harm that bond, they deserve what they get. Rage got his name for a reason. He carried a black steel dagger, but he thrived to kill with his bare hands. He wore the same outfits as the others, but his was a chain mail vest. His arms, riddled with the scars of battle were covered with tattoos of skulls, wrapping and entwined with blood, vines and smoke, each skull an enemy life he took with his bare hands. There were so many that his arms were now "sleeved" as the tattoo world calls it, and the skulls were starting to run onto his back and shoulders. In a close quarters fights his inner rage takes over and he is all but unstoppable. He is fast and strong and always aware. He has every back in the group, and no one worries when Rage runs with them.

On the roof across from Star ran "Shadestrike". Shade was a thin, raven haired woman with hard hazel eyes and pale skin. She wore the same leather as Star and could have been mistaken for Star's sister. She was fairly quiet and enjoyed sniping as much as Star. There is not much known about Shade's history. If she knows anything she has let it remain lost in the mists of time. All that Star knows is that the same Vampire that sired Hardcore, sired her. Upon the slaughter of Hardcore's master, this woman appeared on Clan Phyrehawk's doorstep a few days later. Star left no trail, yet this lost soul found her and explained that it was Star's fault that she no longer had a home or family to go to and so Star got her membership to Clan Phyrehawk. Children of the same master, Hardcore and Shadestrike should have a blood bond, yet they knew little of each other supposedly. Star did not buy that story in the least, but it mattered little to her. The only time the two of them could be seen talking was when the whole team went for their ritualistic victory drinks at the Clan Tavern, "DarkWaters". As far as Star was concerned, Shadestrike was one of the best snipers around and she was loved by her team, and she was Star's victory drink partner, end story.

Lastly there was Phyrestone, a big man with olive skin and dark waving hair he kept in a military clan ponytail. He was an imposing figure, big, strong and intimidating. He wore the same black outfits that Wolf and Hardcore did, and at his back, a generic bastard sword. He was in line for Clan blade "Skullsplitter", beings he was the first in centuries big enough to wield the cumbersome two handed sword, and he only had a few more merits to achieve first. Star found him in New York, and liked his humor the moment she first spoke to him. She came across him when her team had a night off and they decided that a they had not been to New York in quite sometime. At a random New York club they ran into a human with the soul of a child of the night, breaking up a brawl. To Star's surprise, he was very knowing as well. He knew who and what the team was and expressed an interest in the hunger. Star took his request under advisement and took to watching him for weeks like a hawk stalking prey. She alighted to him in Central Park one night, content with his person and morals after weeks of survey. He stuck a deal with Star, she could bring him into the fold, but only if she brought in his female companion. Star was more then happy to bring his brilliant companion into the fold as well. Star had watched her as well. The deal was struck and Star shared her hunger with Phyrestone and his companion Phyremind. He was the strength and she was the wisdom and together they were a phenomenal pair. She designed the weapons, outfits, armor and all the technology that they could find themselves needing. He went out and pounded the pavement with the team. He was the extra muscle and humor when needed. But he was always level headed, which Star found herself leaning on. Phyremind became fast friends with Star and Shade. Star also learned, to her amusement, that saying Mind was a "companion" to Stone was an understatement. The lover's were soon legendary within the Clan's walls...and loud. It added to their charm, and that charm blended them into the Clan, and Star's group, very well.


	3. Chapter 2: Dark Night, Quick Strike

_**Chapter 2: Dark Night, Quick Strike**_

Phyrestar held up her left fist, signaling the team to stop. The next roof over a shadow moved. Star slipped her rifle off her shoulder, and slipped in behind an air conditioning unit. She shouldered her rifle and leaned across the air conditioning unit. "Will this damned machine kick on beneath my shot and throw me off?" she contemplated. The air about her was cool, maybe 65 degrees. No, the likely hood of the unit kicking on was slim. She smiled to herself and let her perception of the outside world cloud over a bit. She focused on her rifle, it's weight familiar in her hands, it's metallic body cool to the touch, waiting. She placed her eye to the scope and the world about her drifted away. The shadow in her scope became a man, but not quite a man. He seemed tattered and just a little frenzied as he stood watch on the roof across from her. He hunched in the shadows, lurking, searching. He seemed to search the horizon, then the landscape and then his immediate surroundings. Then back to the horizon again. Watch dog, or zombie, as this case happened to be, it mattered not to Phyrestar. Most things at the wrong end of her rifle ended the same way. She inhaled, slow and deep, willing her shoulders to relax. She exhaled, slowly, dropping her shoulders a bit, relaxing her body, and slowing her heart rate. The rifle lay heavy in her hands, still only waiting. Inhale...focus narrowing, body steading, details of the zombie-man's face clearing. Exhale...body relaxing totally, finger slipping from the trigger guard to the trigger. Inhale deep and hold. The zombie looked at her with empty eyes, not really seeing the second death coming his way. She compressed her whole hand in one steady, fluid motion. Trigger depressed, silver messenger of death slicing it's way through the cool night air, to land squarely between the zombie's eyes. His head snapped back with the impact of the bullet and pulled his useless body down to the roof, to lay in a pool of blackened blood. Exhale.

Shadestrike loved to watch Star execute a perfect shot. It was exhilarating to see the artistry in so violent an activity as dealing death. Even if the targets are undead already. Shade had already shouldered her rifle and as soon as Star dropped the first zombie, Shade dropped the second in much the same style as Star. Breath, relax, and only touch the trigger if you are ready to fire. Shade was ready, always ready. She scanned the roof for more blood to spill, but nothing was to be found. The roof was secure. She glanced over at Star who nodded her consent that the roof was clear and slipped up to the edge of the roof, to peer over the team from five stories up. They were engadged in clearing the perimeter swiftly. The rule of thumb with the group was, unless otherwise advised, when Star took the first shot, it was the "charge" signal for the team to clear and secure the perimeter of whatever their target happened to be.

Star popped the first, Shade popped the second and both turned their attention to the street below. Shadows morphed into team members and those members slaughtered the eight zombie ground perimeter that surrounded the abandoned church. Wolf slipped in through any opening that the cumbersome zombie left to him. He would duck, lunge and swipe, and as always landing the final blow somewhere in the target's skull. He spun, one black blade hovering in front of him, the other blade ready to strike off to his side. The next zombie lunged. He deflected him expertly, forcing him back a pace. He swiped the first blade across the creatures exposed face with a right handed back hand. As the creature snatched his hands to the black blood running from the wound on his face, he left his chest open. Wolf brought the same blade down at an angle cutting open the creature's chest from collar bone, to hip bone. With his left hand, he brought his second blade in an uppercut into the creature's chin and into his brain. He swiftly retracted his arm, pulling the blade free, and stepping clear of the falling corpse. He was the darkness and he wielded death like a graceful dancer. There was just as much art in his dance as there was violence. The thrill of a clean kill invigorated him. He felt the charge of success as keenly as the sea spray on his face when he used to be a Captain at sea. He felt alive.

Hardcore walked into battle like a storm rolling across an open plain. He walked up to his first zombie and simply knocked his guard aside like a parent knocking a child's toy away from them. He brought his right hand over his head and the blade down in the top of the zombie's skull. He had sunk his dagger in the first skull so deeply, and with such brutal efficiency that he chose to leave the blade there for later retrieval. With one swift motion he slipped "Gryphon's Rage" from it's sheath and brought it down in front of him. It's ancient steel begging to be quenched in blood, reliving it's birth. Hardcore was deadly, and light on his feet. He could feel the power of the blade vibrating through him, and smell the blood of the undead on the air. The sword's need to drink was almost as strong as his own. Parry, dodge, parry, strike. The blade sang out as it tasted blood, and the zombie fell, it's head rolling to a nearby storm drain. The blade could be sated with any blood, but Hardcore required clean blood. He controlled his hunger and concentrated on the task at hand, he could feed once inside with the criminals who deserved it. No matter how clean a strike, destruction always left him feeling empty and craving more destruction..

Phyrestone swung his gigantic blade in a huge, powerful arc, decapitating one zombie and maiming another. Stone had taken the zombie's arm off, at which point the zombie spared the arm on the ground only a fleeting glance and then descended on Stone with that single minded process that most undead suffer from. The zombie was too close for the blade, so Stone reached out with a massive left hand and grabbed the zombie by his greasy hair. The zombie swung his one arm in a feeble attempt to dislodge Stone. Stone brought the pommel of the huge sword up with his right hand to make skull splitting contact with the zombie's face. The zombie slipped to the ground, perching on it's hands and knees. Black blood pooling on the ground from it crushed nose and mouth. It looked up at Stone, it's single minded determination flaring in it's reanimated eyes. It looked up into the glare of a raised blade. Stone had the blade raised over his right shoulder like a golf club. He brought it down swiftly, and surely, like a medieval executioner, severing the zombie's head from his body. "Fore." He whispered to himself and his headless zombie with a predatory smirk.

Phyrerage could hear his breath harsh in his lungs. Several centuries of smoking would do that to a body. It mattered not to him. He intended to add more skulls to his collection this night. He ran in to the fray like Peterbilt into a highway pileup. The first zombie got a bone jarring shoulder check that sent his dilapidated body sprawling across the black pavement. He ignored the first zombie, now more then several feet away, and turned his attention to the second zombie. He grabbed the second zombie and proceeded to give his face a total re-constructive beating. The first zombie recovered, ignoring the gravel imbedded in his face and grabbed Rage's right shoulder. Rage dropped the second zombie to the ground like a rag doll, and grabbed the first zombie with his left hand. He leaned forward and pulled the zombie over his shoulder and on to the ground next to the second zombie. Swiftly he dropeed to one knee, gripped the zombie's head in both hands and gave a vicious twist. He felt the neck snap, the zombie cease moving and the flesh instantly dissolve. The zombie head came off in his hands with a sickening squelch of decaying flesh. H smirked at the head and looked up at the second zombie. It was sitting only a few feet from him scrabbling for purchase across what was left of the first zombie. Rage threw the head into the on coming zombie's grasp. "Catch." He said as he lunged forward, seconds after the head left his hands. He landed on the zombie, knocking him back to the pavement. With only a fraction of his battle rage tapped he put his knee in the zombie's chest and just tore his head clean off. No snapping of neck, or twisting of skin...just rage. He spit on the head in his hands and dropped it to the pavement as he rose. His heart thundered in his ears, and anger fueled his body. Raw fury just rolled off of him like fog off the sea.

Phyrestar smiled to herself and looked up at the wanning moon. She could feel the moon's power and tug as keenly as the day she was turned, it brought her peace. She sighed, turning from the moon, for her job was not complete just yet. Her rifle slung on her back again, she stepped from the edge of the roof. The air rushed by her as she dropped the five stories to the glistening pavement below. She landed with no more a jolt the stepping off a curb, her vampire strength keeping her safe from the long fall. She walked over to her team and smiled at them. Shadestrike had also come down from the roof the fast way and joined them. Star nodded. "Guess it's time to announce ourselves." Star said and turned to face the doorway. Star concentrated for a moment before opening the door, wrapping herself in shadows, as did the rest of the group. Star opened the door enough to peer into the musty church.

Inside there were about 20 or so people, not creatures, with their backs to the door, attentions riveted to the dais in front of the building. At the front of the room was a man. His name was Jonas, and he wielded a power that was not his own. He was an average height man with thin brown hair, a slight build and eyes that glowed with fanaticism, and he pounded his fist on the podium as he spoke to the crowd of thralls that stood before him. To either side of the stage, wrapped in their own enchantments were "spellbinders". Magic users, but these ones only wielded the power to ensnare the mind. They went into a zombie like trance and then wormed their way into the mind of their target, not taking over, but coercing the victim into compliance. Right now they were weaving an enchantment over the crowd, making the possessed Jonas even more undeniable. "Your God is no one and nothing. He has abandoned you. Forsaken you. Left you to rot on this hellish world full of sin and hedonism. But I have the answer you crave, the attention you seek, and the power of my own God to back my claims to lead you. Lead you where, you ask? To lead you from this cesspit of human corruption into the service of my God...the only God...who speaks only through me...and to me...YOU WILL OBEY!!" Jonas cried, gripping the podium so hard tiny droplets of blood pooled under his hands and dripped from the podium to the dusty floor. The edges of the podium creaked under the pressure from his hands and the crowd cheered Jonas into an almost uncontrollable frenzy. Jonas was elated, his heart thundering in his ears and his pulse racing. He was the new God and these people loved him. He exhaled raggedly. He scanned the crowd and tapped into the power he felt building inside for days. He used it to enhance his aura and make himself more undeniable to all.

Yet, in the center of the crowd there was a woman. He was sure she was not there a moment ago, but she was there now. Darkly beautiful in black leather with auburn hair and blue green eyes. She was beautiful, and yet veiled in a dangerous aura. She stood defiantly, staring at Jonas. Staring through him, past the manipulations, and into the dark soul he harbored. She smiled a predatory smile at him. "Jonas." It was a mere whisper, but every ear in the room heard her and the power she exuded. "Jonas, your judgment as a false prophet is death. Face death and accept it. Do not make death come to you." Her smile never faltered and the crowd parted for the powerful woman who appeared.. Around her other black clad warriors appeared. Just as imposing, just as deadly. "Only Jonas and the spell casters. Leave the crowd they are only puppets. Jonas is mine alone." She said to her group and they all nodded, silently creating a perimeter around Star. She waited to see Jonas react before she committed her team to any more danger. She didn't have to wait long.

"Do you know who I am?!" Jonas asked, unfiltered rage coloring his shaky voice. The woman smiled again and this infuriated Jonas even more. "Yes...You are Jonas, yesterday plumber and today God wanna be with powers bequeathed to you from a demon. I will stop you. Again, do not make death come to you." Star said, barely above a whisper, yet again availing itself to every ear with augmented ease. Jonas raged inside. "Stupid woman...how dare you..." Jonas stopped short as the barrel of her Glock found it's way into his mouth. "Shhhhh." She commanded him. Suddenly he was afraid. She was 15 feet away and in the blink of an eye, covered the 15 feet and she was in his face with a gun in his mouth. Demon spawn. He was the new savior, his vision had said he was. How could this demon spawn best him? The people in the room started to tremble and run from the church. Jonas looked out the corner of his eye and spied two of her thugs gutting one of the spellbinders. He assumed that the other spellbinder had met a similar fate. Cold fear filled his chest and ran out into his arms with a shock. He was going to die at the hands of this...woman. Tears welled in his eyes, where was his Godliness now. "I told you not to make death come to you. Your power is going to go back to the demon it came from, Jonas." Star said and looked into the breathing dead man's eyes. He whimpered and hot urine ran down his khaki pants leg. Star's eyes softened only marginally. "For the death's of several prostitutes for sacrifice. For the theft of supplies from the local church, for being a false prophet, your sentence is death." And with that Star pulled the trigger. The bullet buried it's way through Jonas's skull. His last memory being the evil woman looking into his eyes, pressing herself against his holy body...Harlot. His head split open, splattering his banner at the back of the dais with blood and bone fragments. She let his lifeless body slump to the floor. She felt the hunger well up in her at the sight or Jonas's blood, but she would not partake of his foul blood, after it being poisoned by demon magic. She would just have to sate her hunger at "Dark Waters". Her job tonight was done. "Wolf...call the Clan and get a clean up crew in here." She looked at her team. "Were done here. Let's go home."


	4. Chapter 3: Darkness Festers

_**Chapter 3 : Darkness Festers**_

Well outside Austin City limits, darkness festered. It waited. It steamed in it's own putrescent anger. Another minion was lost to the vampires. The Darkness was angry. Incompetence led to this disaster. The vampire team was in and out in under seven minutes, and suffered not a scratch. Fools! Do they not know what blessings the darkness gives unto them? Jonas could have sent the thralls into a feeding frenzy, devouring vampire flesh like candy, but no. Jonas used his powers to fuel his own pride. Fueling pride was not the problem. Pride of course being one of the prized "Deadly Sins" that the Darkness feeds off of, usually it is more then welcome in an evil plot. The issue was Jonas failing to complete his given tasks because he was blinded by his pride and rendered incompetent by that very same pride. There is after all a very thin line between useful, evil tendency and useless, psychotic insanity. And for Jonas his only reward for his misplaced pride was to die at the hands of that vampire whore Phyrestar. What a sin she could not be taken by the Darkness as an elite soldier of evil.

The Council of the Forbidden, five demon spawn from the most evil depths of Hell, answerable to Satan alone, were plotting in the dark they coveted so much. Leviathan – Water Elemental and keeper of the sins Envy and Lust, Belial – Earth Elemental and keeper of the sin Sloth, Lucifer – Air Elemental and keeper of the sin Pride, Flereous – Fire Elemental and keeper of the sins Greed and Gluttony, and Mephistopheles - The Destroyer and keeper of the sin Wrath. These five pulled the strings of darkness for their own amusement and humanity be damned. The balance that the Angels strove to maintain meant nothing to the Demon Council. Each demon could choose any appearance to please themselves, and right now it was simple, black auras. Undulating smoky wisps with dark eyes and gleaming, feral grins. Faces in the wind.

So they plotted, amidst the empty sands, way outside Austin. It was Lucifer's fault that Jonas failed. Each Demon bequeathed a bit of power to Jonas...Lucifer had given him a wee bit more then the others, so Jonas's extra pride got him killed. Even the Demons needed balance, they just didn't realize and understand it yet. This would prove to be their undoing eventually, unless they opened their eyes and saw the truth, and a proper way to exploit that truth. For Lucifer's mistake he was punished, he lived but one eternity of torture at the hands of Mephistopheles concentrated in a single moment in time. His form flickered and fluctuated wildly like the wind would blow him away an moment, and his howls rent the night like a clap of unearthly thunder. Lucifer paid dearly for his mistake.

Mephistopheles took a long time to speak after punishing Lucifer with the given wrath of their father, Satan himself. "What do we do about this situation? The Vampire Nation is proving to be a troublesome gnat in our grand scheme." The other demons muttered about themselves, looking at the ground as if it held the answers they sought, but none could answer Mephistopheles . Thinking was not a strong point for them, they were creatures of action only. "I believe it is time we paid a visit to Lilith. Perhaps Satan's favorite wife can shed light on this issue. We should seek her advice about her disruptive children." Mephistopheles finally said and the other demons smiled feral grins into the night and, in a moment of breath, we're gone into the wind.


	5. Chapter 4: Lilith

_**Chapter 4 : Lilith**_

Adam's first wife, made from the same Earth as he, called Lilith by God, considered herself equal to Adam. The first feminist. She would not lay down under Adam, for she was made to be equal to him. After calling out God's name, and eating of the forbidden fruit, she left Eden to enter the Darkness. God gave Adam his second wife, Eve. After Adam and Eve ate of that same fruit they were kicked out of the Garden they begot many children, including Caine and Able. Caine killed his brother Able in order to appease their God. This plan backfired and Caine was banished to the darkness as well. It is here that he met with Lilith. Lilith was bitter and now wholly evil.

After she left Eden she was found by 3 angels that were sent to collect her. She refused. They told her they would have her children killed and she instead struck a deal with them. She would kill infants not protected by the names of Angels above their cribs, up to 8 days after birth for males and 20 days after birth for females. This would be her revenge for all of her children, 100 per day, that the Angels would slay in the name of the God that Lilith had turned her back on. And so Lilith lived until she came upon Caine. She saw she could fester his self pity into evil bitterness. She had eaten of the forbidden fruit and she shared that knowledge with Caine. Caine became greedy and coveted the power Lilith had. He caught her by surprise and found a way to drink of Lilith's blood to gain that power himself. Power now stolen, he then wandered off into the darkness again. Caine's stolen powers were invincibility against Adam's descendants (humankind), great speed and strength, ability to manipulate time, shadows, flesh and mind. Powers that would later evolve into the lifestyle and myth of the current Vampire Nation.

God sent the Arch Angels to speak to Caine and ask him to repent for the murder of Able, before he found out how to spread the power of Lilith into the world. Caine denied them. Lilith gave him something that God never did, and his bitterness won out that day. Not without penalty. The Arch Angels each cursed him and his every descendant. Michael cursed Caine to forever fear fire; Uriel cursed him to be unable to dwell in sunlight and to live forever in darkness; Gabriel cursed him to be neither living nor dead, undying and ever without hope. Only to feed upon blood alone, that hunger to be undeniable and unquenchable. Also that his offspring shall war with one another, that he may be their judge and know what it is for a father to condemn his children. When finally Raphael, came to him, he offered a path to redemption called Golconda, a state of Vampire Nirvana born of self control and inner strength to resist the call of the beast and the need to feed on as much blood as others of his kind. Here, in Golconda, Caine could find peace if he chose. These curses made Caine into the first vampire. But he would be nothing without the power he stole from Lilith.

The demons were upon Lilith's cave before their smoke in the desert had dissipated. Mephistopheles appeared as a darkly handsome man, dressed in a black three piece suit,carrying the Staff of Hell in his right hand and the red Book of Souls tucked under his left arm. Thin wire frame glasses covered beady black eyes and the skin on his face was lightly pocked with the weariness of age and war. The other demons flitted around Lilith's cave as rats. Lilith sat upon a throne of bone in her cave and gazed on at her husbands foolish Generals. She sipped blood from a carved diamond chalice. The blood slipped across her lips with a viscous ease and the excess rolled languidly back down the diamond surface. Lilith inclined her head, auburn hair falling to one side. These fools we're not worth the ground they walked on and they knew with one look that Lilith was not impressed. "what is it that you clowns seek in my presence?" She asked. Her voice was sultry, quiet and infinitely dangerous. Satan's generals as they were known, suffered as the angels with the lack of free will. Lilith was once human, contained that shred of free will and it made her dangerous in a way that the Demons could never compete with. They knew and tread carefully with the spiteful Lilith.

"Dear sweet Lilith..." Mephistopheles breathed as he knelt before her throne and took the back of her pale hand to his lips for a kiss. She snatched her hand away in an angry flush. Caine got her once with that trick, never again.

"What is it you want Demon?" Her voice now vibrating with her angry power. Mephistopheles twitched slightly. He abhorred catering to this...woman. But he had little choice.

"Lilith, we need the secret to dealing with your children." Mephistopheles said as he stood straight and tall, his power causing pressure on the air making his visage only a little threatening. It was important that he show reverence, but not weakness, in the presence of Lilith. She was a finicky sort. She laughed, deep and throaty, and after her laughter subsided she took another sip from her chalice.

"That idiot Adam and his subservient rib-bone wife, Eve, are the ones you seek. The vampires are spawn of their loins, not mine." She spat out, her face flickering slightly with her anger and distaste in the low cave light. She held her old form with ease, but the demons knew it was a facade, just like their own. Lilith was just as much a demon now as they were.

"But Adam and Eve have long since turned to dust. How then can we get our answer?" Mephistopheles asked, true defeat creeping into his rasping voice.

"You could ask Caine, if you could find that traitorous leech. But not even the Lord himself knows where he went to ground. When he realized the Vampires could be extinguished with his death alone, he went to ground, hiding somewhere like a rat." She glared at the other scurrying demons and suddenly they congregated around Mephistopheles turning into their black smoke auras. "Caine, drinking of my blood, absorbed power over many things including space and time. Caine could be anywhere. Believe me, you won't find him, I couldn't and owe that little bastard several life times of torture." She smiled a ravenous smile of several rows of sharp, blood stained teeth. Distinctly not human and bone chillingly terrifying, even to Satan's Generals. Lilith was a soul devourer, and of infants at that. Evil doesn't come an worse or heartless then that. "You could ask the direct children of Caine, but I don't believe that will help you either. They are a very tight knit group. Protecting each other and what not. No, Mephistopheles, I think you will have to use your own... intelligence," she said with a breathy laugh of mockery, "to find out how to dispose of the verminous children of Caine." Lilith allowed a glow of red to enter her eyes and power vibrated on the air before her as she glared down from her throne at the demons. "Now get ye gone from my sight, you petulant afterbirth of Satan's thoughtless lusts!" With that Lilith waved a pale hand at the demon's and swept them from her domain as if they were but bugs on the wind.


	6. Chapter 5: Who Are We

**Chapter 5: Who Are We But Warriors, Puppets and Fools?**

"Dark Waters" was your typical dingy dive bar owned and operated by Clan Phyrehawk. The ceiling and walls had once been a nice off white with a deep cherry chair rail and cherry paneling at the bottom. The floors were once a deep, crimson cherry hardwood as well. This was many centuries ago. Now the walls were discolored from ages of smoking and grimy hands. The beautiful cherry floors were scuffed into a foggy, dull finish. There was a hanging cloud of smoke from the ceiling and the lights had a grime on them that muted them down to proper "dingy bar" levels. Chatter filled the air as members of the Clan sat about the many tables and saddled up to the ebony and cherry bar. The bar was the focal point of the room. It was a large half circle, solidly connecting to the back wall on both sides. The bar itself was carved ebony, depicting scenes described in the "Tome of the Penumbra" across the front of it. The top of the bar was solid crimson cherry with inlaid ebony phoenix designs, and the whole thing was a gorgeous high gloss. The wall behind the bar was a huge, well lit, sheet of frosted glass, ceiling to chair rail and ran the length of the bar. Off to one side was an invisible door in the glass which accessed the bar serving area from a back hallway, and was the only way behind the bar, unless you were foolish enough to jump it. The Clan's emblem, an attacking phoenix, adorned the glass wall. It was etched into the frosted glass with colorful enamels of the brightest reds, yellows, and oranges. Clear glass shelves were then run on the unadorned portions of frosted glass, with every liquor imaginable, legal and illegal. All were available in a never ending and never questioned supply.

"Clan Members Only" and the building being private property allowed this bar to do as it pleased. Smoking inside was to be expected, alcohol was served at all hours, gambling in the back if you liked, and fresh blood available, kept at body temperature, on tap. Everything was free to the Clan, after all, what does an immortal need with cash. The Clan funded itself with many outside ventures and business. Clan Phyrehawk was never for want of anything. And they could celebrate with the best of them.

The chatter subsided as team Darkblayde walked in through the ebony and cherry doors. The bartender looked up. He was a young, handsome lad. Only 450 years old, and looking not a day over 30. His soft sandy brown hair fell across his forehead in a sweep to the side and his blue eyes were deep, with the knowledge of centuries, but always rimmed with humor. His clan name was a mystery to most, he was known to all as Kelly Fitzpatrick. His name might be lost but his story is legend. Descendant of a Polish-Italian heritage, he was rescued from a burning village he resided in just outside of Prague. He was sired into the Clan centuries ago, but was quickly found to be not much of a fighter. He could defend himself with a blade, surely, but his heart was not in dealing death. He found that he was more a consultant then a warrior. He was quick with a joke, good with advice and had the ability to make everyone and anyone smile. When the Clan found themselves in need of a new bartender, he was a natural choice, and he loved the idea. He finally felt like he had a true calling in Clan Phyrehawk. With not a stitch of Irish blood in him, he adopted a very convincing Irish brough and changed his name to Kelly Fitzpatrick. Only a few knew that the accent, and his name were not real. He remembered every name, every face, every drink preference and spoke over a dozen different languages, and had never in his tenure as "Dark Waters" bartender had to break up a brawl. He could read people and intervene before things got out of hand. Darkblayde was special to him. While a senior member of Clan Phyrehawk had sired him it was Star, Hardcore, Rage and Shade who rescued him from the flames. Wolf, Stone and Mind had joined later, but the original four members of Darkblayde were his friends. He smiled as Darkblayde made their way to his bar, poured seven wine balloons of the blood, and started breaking out the alcoholic chasers of choice.

Rage was first to the bar with an ear to ear grin. "Kelly, me boy, how goes the evening?" He said, mimicking Kelly's Irish accent. Rage felt a kinship with Kelly. Many could make him smile, Kelly could make him laugh. Kelly smiled at him and handed him his blood and his shot of 151.

"If it ain't the wee one coming to the tavern for a swig of the local goods. I hear ye been upta yer elbows in zombie giblets tonight. Well, Kelly, here's got just what'll fix what ails ya." His accent was thick this evening, bordering on incomprehensible. It caused Rage to shake his head and laugh.

"Whatever ya hand me Kelly is what I drink. I trust you." Rage said in a normal voice, and Kelly turned and laughed once as he walked away a bit to attend to the others.

Everyone had a glass of blood. Star, Shade and Mind did a shot of whatever Kelly surprised them with, Hardcore and Wolf had beer, Rage had his 151, Stone had a Vodka and Cranberry. A toast with the liquor to a successful evening, and then the blood was drank. The use of their skills to conceal themselves, move faster and physically abuse their bodies was a drain on their systems. The blood helped replenish what they lost like food does for a normal human. There was something about the blood, warming the stemware, and slipping in undulating waves on the glass that was enthralling. Viscous and almost lazy in it's nature, and the most beautiful burgundy color, like a highly polished, precious ruby.

After the toast Star was feeling a little withdrawn. She found her normal booth off the side of the bar, and sat with her back to the wall. She watched the patrons of "Dark Waters" with detached interest. One leather clad leg across the booth cushion and the other on the floor. Her stem ware held delicately in her hand, resting on tabletop, her mind analyzing the endless patterns her blood made on the walls of the glass. Shade sat on the otherside of the booth and watched the vacantness pass in and out of Star's eyes. Star was thinking of everything and nothing of times changing and history lost. If she were human it would be time getting the best of her. But it's the passage of time around her that was depressing her now. Empires rose and fell, wars were won and lost, friends made and lost, all to the ravages of time. She was remembering the many humans who befriended her undercover self. The ones who knew her truth and did not want the embrace. High level sympathizers and undergrounds alike. All eventually lost. Star felt tears in her eyes and blinked them back. No use in crying, it changed nothing. She was the Clan's killer and she would continue to do this until someone bested her. She felt she was in for a long wait, and cracked a slight smile.

Wolf leaned on the bar and watched Star. He was concerned. Her depression had been getting to her and she spent more time then usual, locked in her thoughts. He didn't know how to reach her. He looked at her lounging in the booth, and his fingers ached to touch her. She had smooth porcelain skin under her battle worn leathers. Skin only he saw and only he touched. He heaved a great sigh for he knew he could please her body, but her heart and soul were somewhere else. He didn't want some of Star, he wanted her total, body and soul. She looked up and met his eyes. He saw a brief film of tears there and then it was gone, and she smiled for him. It was a dazzling smile, but didn't extend to her eyes. He gave her a half hearted smile, knowing that he was mirroring her own hidden feelings. He knew it wasn't him, or at least he was fairly sure it wasn't him that was the issue. "Go to her." A voice said and Wolf looked over his shoulder. It was Kelly, he had left behind his Irish for a moment. Wolf looked at him, and back to Star. Kelly looked at Wolf's troubled eyes and nodded once. "Ghosts of her past haunt her and she needs you, more then ever to keep her in today and not drift into the past. Go, and keep her mind in the present. And if that doesn't work, ravage her body, I'm sure she can't ignore that." And smiled at Wolf and headed back down the bar. Wolf watched his retreating back and looked back to Star. Kelly was right, she needed him, and he'd be damned if he'd fail her now. He drained the dregs of his beer, grabbed his stemware and moved for the booth.

Shade saw Wolf makes his move and got up from the table. They needed time and she needed something to do. Boredom was eating at her. Her only loss from her previous life were her children. What that bastard that sired her did with her children and husband before taking her, she didn't know, and she never did find them. However she refused to let that haunt her. She tried to only remember the good and ignore the bad. The rest of her past was the kind of history that could afford to be lost to the sands of time. She wandered over to Stone, Mind and Rage. Rage and Stone were comparing their experiences of the evening, and had collected a good sized circle of entertained patrons as they told their epic tale. 8 zombies became 800 and it was them against the world with unbeatable odds stacked against them. Shade smiled into her glass as she took a sip of the viscous crimson, and savored the texture and warmth of the fluid on her tongue. Rage stood with one booted foot up on the seat of the chair, leaning forward with his forearms on that knee. Stone stood, his height enhanced by all the seated bodies around him. Troubadours were not lost, they just stopped singing. These two turned out to be very good storytellers, and Shade decided to have a seat and see where the story went next and see if she could recall any of the evening coming close to what these two were describing. So far, she was convinced that she must have fallen asleep in the car and they went on an adventure without her. She laughed as they carried on. Mind sat with her legs up on another chair, arms folded across her ample chest and just kept shaking her head at the tall tale being woven before her. She smiled at Shade as Shade took up a seat next to her.

Hardcore was quiet and observed everything from a distance. Being in a crowd was too much, but being alone was intolerable. So he stayed at the bar, watched the crowd and talked with Kelly. When he was done his beer and his blood he moved off the barstool and down the hall. He headed through a door on the left. On the other side of the door there was a tiny hall. On his left the door leading to the serving area of the bar, on his right, the kitchen. When he couldn't fit in, he went to the kitchen. It was his release. Kelly knew that after every run, he would unwind by creating some sort of devilishly good meal for the team. Tonight he felt steak was in order. Seared on the grill, a nice medium rare, and seasoned to perfection. Fresh scalloped potatoes, in his own sauce, a 150 year old recipe still being perfected and a favorite of everyone. Maybe some broccoli in a butter and garlic sauce. Whoever decided that Vampires didn't care for garlic obviously never shared a meal with this group, especially Stone and Star. They were garlic fiends. Hardcore smiled to himself and set out to find all the ingredients he needed for his meal. Calm washed over him and the noise of the bar faded away.

Wolf slipped in the booth next to Star and put his arm around her. No words were needed. She huddled into his chest like a frightened child, and listened to his heart for a bit. Her other thoughts drifted and vanished. Wolf could always bring her back to reality again. Star did not know why the spells were coming over her, but she did not like it and could not wait to find a way to stop it. She would be thinking of nothing and then, in a sudden flood, memories long forgotten would come back to haunt her. Wolf was one of few ways back out of the mists of memory. He smelled of whatever the newest cologne was and she loved it. He ran his fingers on her neck and up into her hair, and kissed her neck. The sight of the kiss on her neck, the contact of his lips and the feel of his breath on her flesh made a tingle start from that point and race through her body like wildfire. She suddenly wanted more of him. She heaved a great sigh, grabbed his hand and made to get up. He rose and followed her to the door. Out into the night they went. Across the street to the apartment complex also owned by Clan Phyrehawk where everyone was housed. They walked with their arms around each others hips and once home, allowed Wolf to steal her away from her demons. This would be the last time her demons would haunt her for a long while. The night was only just beginning for all of them.


	7. Chapter 6: Defiling the Innocent

_**Chapter 6: Defiling the Innocent Brings Blood Vendettas for All.**_

There was blood on the air this night. It's coppery scent could be sensed for miles around. The demons danced in puddles of offal, their slain Angel counterparts serving as a perverted playground. As they danced, paraded and defiled these holy warriors, new batches of Angels were falling every moment. Demons crammed hungry fang filled jaws into steaming cadavers, devouring holy flesh savagely, yet never sating their appetites for destruction and death. They had taken the Angels by surprise this night. Belial held the Archangel Urial's one wing in his hand, raising it above his head whooping and dancing about the offal with the other demons in victory. It was his own bloodied, defamed trophy. Urial had escaped on foot, to where the demon did not know, or care. Belial had his trophy, his bragging rights, and he would use this victory over the Archangel Urial as his ace in the hole with Satan. Belial was hungry for the Favored Demon position that Mephistopheles current enjoyed. Mephistopheles knew this and stewed over it. He could just kill Belial, he was certainly more powerful then the other demons. Ahh, but that would just make him petty. So Mephistopheles glared at Belial, whilst Belial waved the dismembered wing of white and blood, and Mephistopheles thought. He was still top dog and his plan tonight, while the other demons played, was ingenious. He wondered briefly about his evil Grigori set loose upon the world. Mephistopheles changed his train of thought, he didn't want to be caught smiling too much. He then thought only of the many deaths he would inflict on Belial when he made his first mistake. Revenge would be sweet and he would teach this peon demon his proper place in the underworld. Under Mephistopheles' boot heel.

At "Dark Waters" Kelly kept a watchful eye, but the air felt charged. He knew it, he could feel it. Something was about to happen. Something big, and that something not at all good. The door of "Dark Waters" swung open to reveal and hooded figure. The two guards in the vestibule were laid out on the floor, blood pooling around them. Trouble had blown in, but Kelly was no fighter and no fool. Long hours of training, had taught Kelly to master the art of bending time and bending shadow. He was not strong, or fast. So he bent reality to himself. No one saw him slip towards the mirrored door and through. The new comer moved in slow motion. Kelly was closing the door when he saw the first victim of the stranger hit the table. The vampire was riven apart by the stranger's bare hands, only to be discarded like an old toy. Kelly went cold with fear, shut the door as the screams echoed in his ears. He went to find Hardcore in the kitchen.

Empty eye sockets searched the establishment, any not worth of copulation were destroyed. Then he saw her, she was long, thin and dark. Her breasts called to him and he snaked his tongue out of his mouth and over pasty dead lips. Vampires were throwing themselves at him and he was breaking and slaughtering their bodies and souls. His eyes never left hers. Shadestrike was paralyzed. Her eyes were locked and she watched him destroy everyone. Her voice was gone and her body disobeyed her every command. She felt cold fear grip her, while the stranger approached. He threw off his cloak. He was visually magnificent, and terrifyingly disturbing in the same moment. Flowing golden blond hair waved delicately to his perfectly muscled shoulders. Those shoulders were the base for huge, powerful wings and strong arms. The wings were not like angel wings though. They were leathery and black like the wings of a bat, with small atrophied hands, appearing like claws, at the tips of the wings. Eyeless sockets bored into Shadestrike's soul from his deathly pale face. He had slain most of the patrons who were at "Dark Waters" that night, anyone left had hid.

Shadestrike could do neither, even though she wanted to die, he would not let her. The Grigori placed rough hands on her soft skin and proceeded to bruise every inch of her inside and out. He ran his fat tongue over her lips, and forced it into her mouth. Inside her mind she screamed till her throat was bleeding. In reality she was a puppet with broken strings. The Grigori threw her on the table and tore her leather off without even a hint of effort. He pulled down black leather chaps and sank into her. It was hard, rough and tore her insides apart in a single thrust. Her body finally allowed her to cry out. The Grigori could not focus on both controlling her and raping her. She was still capable of only witnessing her own defiling. The Grigori waste no time, he was designed for one function only, to create the Nephalim. He climaxed quickly and she felt his seed burn inside her like acid on exposed flesh. She screamed until her chest ached.

He removed her from him and threw her to the floor. His job here was done, his orders were to find as many candidates as possible, procreate with them and move own. Sometimes a hundred a night. He was very good. He collected his cloak from the floor after he tucked himself back in his chaps. Suddenly his knees buckled and a searing pain burned in the center of his back. He looked back over his shoulder, kneeling on the floor to see Shadestrike, blood drenched blade above her head. "No one takes anything from me." She said and brought the blade down with blinding speed. The Grigori had no time for thought, his head came off and his body died abruptly. His head looked out of those same eye-less sockets and then was gone. Shadestrike let the blade clatter to the floor as a wave of pain and nausea took her. She wrapped one arm around her stomach to try and hold herself together, and the other hand supported her on the defiled table. Her insides still burned and his seed multiplied at a rate that she could feel. Already her breasts and stomach were swelling. Another wave of pain and nausea took her to the brink of consciousness. As she looked over the edge into the darkness she thought was death, she stepped in and let herself go. She wanted to die, before she could birth any abominations. This was not to be.

Hardcore and Kelly entered the bar as she took the beast's head off. As she fainted away, Hardcore swept in to catch her. He glanced over at the Grigori, it's body had returned to the dust it had been made from. Shadestryke convulsed and Hardcore raced out the door, with Kelly in tow, to take Strike to the Phyrehawk Medical center. Her could see her stomach roiling and tried to wrap what was left of her leather's around her broken and battered body. He tried to not think about the violation she just suffered and tried to sate his impossible desire for vengeance. Strike came first.. Vengeance was a patient thing. Vengeance could wait.

It took 8 hours for Shadestrike to come to full gestation and birth the abomination. There was blood everywhere. Team Darkblayde had not seen Shadestrike since she was admitted, and they all waited outside Strike's room. Her cries rent the night, and broke the team's collective heart. Phyrestar was desperate to avenge Strike. She didn't deserve to be hurt like this. Phyrestar swore a blood vendetta against all Grigori. Her personal mission was now making sure that no other woman would suffer this fate and cause the total extinction of the mythical Grigori. Blood would flow in torrential rivers, and it would be her hand to break the dams. They would all die. Her team backed her up, and swore to assist her in her blood vendetta. Hardcore sat in silence in the corner of the waiting room, silent, brooding. Vengance would be his. The doctor came out saying that Strike would survive, but not to bear anymore children, and that she was in a coma. It was unknown if and when she would come out of it. Hardcore broke the arm of his chair with the crush of his fist.


	8. Chapter 7: Black Rage

_**Chapter 7: Black Rage**_

The black night roiled at the impending justice of Team Darkphyre. Storm clouds howled overhead, threatening rain, but without enough back bone to try and stop Team Darkphyre. The night screamed impotently against the rage stalking the streets. Phyrestar went blindly into the night in search of the Grigori. Her silver blade sang and her pulse hammered in her ears as she and her team raged down on every evil in their paths. They slaughtered every ghoul, freak and monster on their quest for restitution and information leading to the hiding place of the fallen angels. Shadestrike had killed her assailant, but the bloody torture vested upon her body by the Grigori would be avenged upon the flesh of every unholy fallen angel stalking the earth. The Grigori would each suffer ten fold..

In a darkened warehouse, on the Hudson River , Team Darkphyre found their revenge. Phyrestar bent no shadow, she left her rifle at home, and just wasn't in the mood to hide from anyone. Generally she frowned on such brute displays of the vampiric gifts. Tonight she would make an exception. She walked up to the warehouse's steel double doors, "Phoenix Star" in hand and used every ounce of her vampiric strength to kick the doors in to the cement walls and the extra force tore them off their hinges. She stepped forward into the warehouse and breathed in the stench of death. Her shoulders and back tensed and her mind raced forward. She felt her team move into the warehouse and fan out from her like a visible manifestation of her rage. She brought "Phoenix Star" to bear in front of her and smiled like a wolf in the fold. Moonlight glinted off the cold silver blade. She would taste blood tonight. She felt her fangs extend and power rippled off of her.

She could feel her team, waiting for her word. She thought of the family here tonight. This was a vengeance that no one stayed home for. Even Phyremind and Kelly Fitzpatrick came to rain down death on every evil. Kelly stood just off of Phyrerage's side, baseball bat in hand, ancient blood blade in his boot. Just because he wasn't a fighter, didn't mean he didn't know how. You didn't get to be a few centuries old and not know how to survive. His anger was so rare that right now, he frightened half of Darkphyre with his righteous conviction. All Kelly knew was that someone was gonna pay for every Vampire death in his tavern tonight and especially for Shadestrike's suffering

Phyremind stood close to Phyrestone. Phyremind needed no weapon. She closed her eyes for only a moment and focused. A psionic blade lept forth from her open palm. She closed her hand around the crackling blue energy blade. When her training was complete she would quite possibly be the most dangerous of the vampire's present. The gifting of her vampiric state brought forth a rare side effect. The ancient mind disciplines of the elder Vampire Lord's. She had latent vampire blood in her family and didn't know it. And very old blood it was. No one had seen the mind disciplines in centuries. The gifting from Phyrestar had surged these disciplines to the surface. And Phyremind had every intention of using them this evening. The rest of the team waited only a few seconds as flashes in the shadows started to pick up their paces.

Phyrestar breathed in the decay deeply and arched her back. **"**_**Victrix **__**Sanguinarius**_**!!**" Phyrestar cried to the heavens. The ancient battle cry translated roughly from old Latin into "Blood Victory!!".

Her team heard her cry and rallied to her call. They picked up the cry and made it their own. Darkphyre fell on the living shadows and felled the Grigori hideout. Phyrestar set her blade, "Phoenix Star", to feast on the soft flesh of the Grigori. Angels, fallen or otherwise, shared many properties with the unborn fetus. Their flesh was soft and while muscles reproduced and healed at an exponential rate, the flesh did not. So in effect, a fatal thrust would not kill, but a Grigori could bleed out through a thousand razor cuts and then, in their weakened state, could be easily decapitated.

Hardcore wasted no time. He lept onto the back of the first Grigori he found. He was taken a back by it's sheer strength and found himself swiftly tossed aside. He thought of Shadestrike's broken, bleeding body in his arms and felt his blood boil in his veins, and his chest explode with rage. He propelled himself to his feet and glared at the monstrosity of faith before him. His fangs extended and he felt more animal now then Vampire. He went head to head with the beast, and this time there was no surprises. They came in and grappled each other's heads, fighting for purchase. There could be only one winner and one death. Hardcore did not kid himself. If he didn't win this battle, if he didn't avenge Shadestrike's honor, death would be the only answer he would accept. He would be a disgrace. The fight continued, the beast and the warrior jousted in and out, seeking purchase, looking for weakness. No quarter asked, and none taken. Hardcore moved in swiftly and took a hold of the beast's head again and before the Beast could gain leverage he stomped down and knew he had won. "Failure is not an option." He growled into the beast's ear. In that moment of the beast's distraction, Hardcore found purchase on it's skull and twisted. The veins in his arms pulsed and he felt his muscles scream in protest, and he let out a cry of unbridled rage. He tore the beast's head clear off it's shoulders. The body crumbled to dust and the eyeless head shriveled in his hands. He threw the head to the floor with a snarl, a cloud of dust, and stomped it into the earth as he stalked father into the black warehouse. "Victrix sanguinarius." He whispered to the darkness. His heart ache eased fractionally, but his rage burned on. On his back he felt "Grypon's Rage". It grew heavy, calling to him, calling for blood and he knew it was time to feed the blade the black blood of the fallen angels. He unsheathed the blade with the tell tale sound of steel on leather and felt the blade vibrate in his strong hand.

Phyrestone had his two handed bastard sword loose and was simply decapitating beasts en masse. His huge, powerful arms swung the blade in large deadly arcs. The blade was sharp, but the sheer weight of it was tearing through fetal flesh like a knife through butter. He laughed as Grigori exploded around him like so many piñatas in the night. His laugh reached Phyremind's ears and she couldn't help but smile. She stood at Stone's back and covered him. Together they made an impenetrable wall of strength. The island in a sea of monstrosities. Stone wore his hair loose tonight, and long black ringlets fell past his shoulders and flew on the air as he destroyed every beast he came upon. He wore a black trench coat and looked every inch a deadly bird of prey. Phyremind wore simple black leather and sent psionic waves into the crowd. She found herself face to face with a Grigori and with Stone at her back and wielding such a large sword, he could not reach her assailant. She gave a slight smirk and squinted at the Grigori as it ran a fat tongue over black lips, taking in her pale, freckled skin and the scent of a female prospect. It tried to coerce her mind and control her as the first one controlled Shadestrike. Phyremind shook her head, shoulder length red amber hair falling forward. Suddenly Phyremind looked less like a delicate flower and more like dangerous woman. "Bad idea." She said as she stared into the eyeless sockets. The beast began to tremble as she forced her will on the beast and forced his black blood to come to a boil. She concentrated hard and she could hear her pulse in her skull like a hammer as she focused on the beast. Her nose started to bleed and blood vessels in her eyes burst. The whites of her eyes became a light crimson and the Grigori shuttered violently, and exploded. Everything was coated with a fine mist of black blood and Phyremind found herself back in her own head again. She crumpled to her knees and her nose bleed freely, yet she smiled. It was a dangerous smile. She got back to her feet and looked at Phyrestone who stood back for a moment to admire her work with a soft nod. He placed a large, firm hand softly on her cheek and they shared a moment within the chaos. The world stopped for only a second and then it was gone, and everything crashed back into motion around them. But that moment was all they needed.

Kelly and Phyrerage were having their own brand of fun. Kelly Fitzpatrick put all his rage into a mighty swing of his bat and smashed it into the closest Grigori's face. He felt the bones of it's face crush beneath all of his vampiric strength. He pulled back for a finishing blow and the Grigori's face puffed back out and filled back in. Other then the surface cuts, the Grigori had healed in mere moments. Phyrerage nodded and looked from Kelly to the beast and back to Kelly again. "Well that just sucks." He said and Kelly nodded his agreement while he looked down at his bat, puzzled. "That it does laddie. Hmmm." Kelly responded and the Grigori took advantage of the distraction to lunge for Kelly. Phyrerage spun quickly and leg swept the beast, causing it to fall well short of it's mark. Phyrerage came back to a standing position and brought the steel toe, steel shank, black leather boot down on the back of the beast's neck. He put only a fraction of his true strength behind it and severed the head from the body. He smiled as he felt the spine crush and the flesh tear under his brute rage. He looked up at Kelly who had his lips pursed as if in deep contemplation. "Ya see...now that there...that sucked for him." and he laughed out loud. Kelly shook his head and smiled. "I be believein' our headless friend 'ere called in de cavalry." He pointed at two more approaching Grigori with his trusty bat. "Now lemme see if I got this correct. It goes somethin' like this." Kelly swung his bat again and took one Grigori's head clear off his neck with a sickening squelch and then a puff of dust. The body crumbled and dissipated. He let the follow through carry the bat one handed up onto his shoulder casually and Phyrerage applauded languidly. "Yup, Kelly me boy, I think you've got it." He did a roundhouse and clipped the next Grigori in the face. The force of the blow spun the beast around and dropped him down on one knee. Phyrerage stalked over and picked him up by a black leathery wing. Already he could her the bones of the beast's face cracking back into alignment. Phyrerage looked up at Kelly. "Batter up boss!" He started to spin in place, pulling the Grigori along with him. "Let'er rip me boy!" Kelly said and would back hard. Phyrerage released and Kelly swung. The head exploded into giblets and then dust. "Whoohoo!" Phyrerage shouted. And Kelly brushed the dust off his blue jeans. "Filthy beasties." He said and then smiled at Phyrerage. "Who's next?" He asked and Phyrerage smiled broadly. "This tattoo is gonna be a big one. How about you Kelly, let me get you a tattoo too. I think it's about time you show everyone your more then just 'the bartender'." Kelly popped one sandly brown eyebrow up in a high arch and smirked. "How 'bout not. I'll be leave'n all the tattoos to you, me friend." Phyrerage smiled. "Wuss." he said and clapped Kelly on the arm. Kelly shook his head. "Time's a wasin' laddie. There's more beasties to kill." he said and Phyrerage gave one resolute nod. "Right you are." Phyrerage pointed into the warehouse. "NEXT!" He shouted and the two of them moved on into the night.

Phrewolf danced in the darkness with his twin blades, slashing flesh, inflicting a thousand wounds and moving swiftly away again. He was a ghost, a phantasm. The Grigori never saw him come and could not catch him before he left. They searched, but they searched in vein. By the time they realized Phyrewolf was gone, Phyrestar stood before them. Merciless murder in her eyes. Her blade swiftly decapitated every foe. Phyrewolf began and Phyrestar finished. Their work was swift, and ruthless. There was no love lost, no concern for possible innocents. No one was innocent here. Phyrewolf stopped his dance for a moment to watch Phyrestar in her glory. She came around in a 360 degree arc and sheered the beast's head off. The art and grace of her body, the animal fury in her eyes, the barely contained rage on her face and her fangs gleaming in the broken moonlight. She was stunning, and deadly. Like death in an evening gown. Her passion was what made her so sensual to him. Maybe no one else saw her like he did, but it didn't matter. He didn't want anyone else looking at her the way he did. Her bared fangs were a huge turn on. Phyrestar did not care for outward displays of Vampire traits. It tended to make the human co-conspirators nervous. But when she did indulge she captured his heart. He became aware of his surroundings and surged back into action. His dance brought him dangerously close to her already arcing blade. But he had total faith in her. The blade glanced by, only inched above his back as he ducked forward completing a leg sweep of another beast. The blade sang and time slowed. He felt the breeze of the cold steel and smiled. They were meant for each other, like a perfectly arranged symphony. Each knew where the other was and anticipated the other's moves. He swept around her slicing another two beasts and spun to face her. She swept her blade through a beast 's throat up and to the right, felt Phyrewolf behind her and feigning to the right so she continued to the right and brought her blade down. She placed a well aimed boot heel in the gut of a badly wounded fallen angel and kicked. She used the momentum of her kick to spin her around to face Phyrewolf. He stepped into her, placed his left hand on the back of her head and entwined his fingers in her mane of dark hair. He fell on her lips with barely restrained passion. Their breathing was already hard and the delicate sheen of sweat she had enticed him. He felt his fangs extend as he ran his tongue quickly over her fangs. Their kiss was deep, passionate and fleeting. It left them both staring into each other's eyes, into their souls, for only a split second. She smiled at him. "Don't you have some work to do?" She asked and he smiled back at her. "Tease." He said and went back to the art of the slaughter. Phyrestar shook her head with a smirk and went back to the short, devistating arcs that were taking heads of all around her.

Team Darkphyre killed hundreds of the beasts that night and when the warehouse was all but empty they met in the center and where greeted by sarcasticly languid applause and a man dressed in a black three piece suit, wire rim spectacles and a very dangerous air about him. "You people are really becoming a thorn in my side. I was trying to leave you for use later, but it seems that you have foiled my plans for now, and that just won't do." He walked forward and the air around him vibrated with raw power. "Too bad." He said and cocked his head to the side and his eyes glowed a deep red. "You had so much potential." He growled. Yet the volume of his words thundered through the warehouse. Team Darkphyre clutched their collective ears and cringed. Phyremind fell to her knees, a new torrent of blood running from her nose. The vibration on the air amplified. "Who are you?" Phyrestar managed to shout above the growing thunder. She leaned weakly on Phyrewolf and he leaned back. The man stopped and looked her in the eye. "I am Mephistopheles." His hand shot out and the vibration raced out to engulf the team and tear them apart. They all screamed. The sound rent the night as their bodies were torn inside out.

Just as their collective consciousness was about to fade out, time stopped and they were all suddenly aware of their bodies again. They looked around tentatively. "Are we dead?" Phyrerage asked and Kelly shook his head. "No laddie, but there be somethin' a wee bit bigger then you n' I goin' on 'ere this night." They all shared a few more moments of quiet contemplation before a woman walked out of thin air. Mephistopheles raged against unseen hands holding him sound. The woman was long, dark and frightening. Like Mephistopheles, power vibrated around this woman. For the first time in several centuries, some of Team Darkphyre felt fear. It was a dark, seeping fear. Phyrestar looked this woman in the eye and shuddered. Like a black widow, Phyrestar had no doubt this woman would eat her mate and maybe even her own young. The woman looked Phyrestar in the eye and laughed out loud. It was like nails on a chalk board and everyone cringed. "Oh you think the nicest things my dear." She said. The voice was that of a woman but laced with a thousand infant screams. It made the hackles on everyones necks stand straight up.

"Let me do this quickly, I hate being in the mortal world. It smells here, like sweaty monkeys. I am Lilith, and this greebly little demon is Mephistopheles. I saved you because you just did me a huge service. This little anal wart of a demon wants ultimate control and eventual dethroning of Satan himself. He was planing on making an army of Vampiric Nephilim to conquer Earth, and then conquer Hell. All nine rings. Presumptuous imp. However in his quest he crossed me." She turned her predatory gaze on Mephistopheles. He quaked and stammered. She waved a swift hand at him and the guise of a man disappeared. He stood as a red skin, cloven hoofed demon. Two broad horns arched from his skull, one snapped off half way out. "Mistress Lilith, I did not cross you." He stammered. He knew in this moment how badly he had underestimated this woman. Lilith sneered and Darkphyre looked away. "You half baked, minotaur excrement. By claiming the women and defiling them with fallen angels you keep them from having any additional children and thus...enter into the realm of crossing me. Those infants are MINE!" She thundered with barely contained rage. Her image doubled and her power filled the room. "For I am Satan's Queen! Devouerer of infant souls. I am the FIRST demon!! I am...LILITH!!!!"

Her voice thundered and she pointed at Mephistopheles. The Staff of Hell and the red Book of Souls were torn from his grasp and cast aside. The floor trembled and the warehouse's tin roof started to buckle. Lilith unleashed the full force of her power. She was everywhere and no where all at once. The air reeked of ozone. She appeared behind Mephistopheles with one pale hand on his red, fleshy throat. Her head reared back in a feral growl and her jaw parted exposing the rows of sharp teeth. Her skull folded back into a snapping set of jaws. Slavering, murderous and terrifying. The whole of Darkphyre was forcefully compelled to witness the wrath of Lilith. Her head came down on the demon Mephistopheles and closed with a vicious snap. She tore and shook her head like a wolf would tear meat from a kill. The head came off and blood splattered the walls, floors and Darkphyre. Lilith made a swift jerking motion with her head, flipping the severed head up into the air and back down into her waiting, inhuman jaws. She snapped and swallowed Mephistopheles' head down. Her face returned to normal and she released Mephistopheles' lifeless body. It disappeared in a puff of black and purple smoke. Lilith took a handkerchief from thin air and dabbed her face demurely. She belched discreetly and glanced back at Darkphyre. "This in no way means I like you scuttling vermin either. You are spawn of the slimy power thief Caine. I saved you today because you helped keep the balance of good and evil. Oh goody for you. Now get ye gone from my sight before I decide to have some vampire flesh for desert." She swept her hand towards team Darkphyre and they blinked, only to find themselves back in "Dark Waters".

The tavern was repaired as if nothing had ever happened. A voice spoke to the group, the voice of Lilith. "I am taking the abomination created 2 nights ago. It is beyond your comprehension and has no business in this world of men. Let the woman, Shadestrike, know nothing of what happened, I have taken the child, her memory, and the memory of those who worked on her. I don't care what they are told, but she must never know of the deed that was done to her. You got your vengeance ten fold and one of Satan's generals is dead. Be content in this knowledge, children of Caine. Your much more useful then you ancestor, that's for damn sure. Remember, this is no child. It is a monster and shall be kept and treated as such. This is my will, and damned be those who cross Lilith." The voice faded. Team Darkphyre collectively shuddered at her voice and looked at each other in bewilderment. "Wow...she is a total character." Phyrestone said and thunder rumbled in the distance. "I heard that, you oversized ape." Lilith said and Phyrestone blinked in surprise. Phyrestar snickered and looked around. "Let's get cleaned up folks. I have had enough weirdness for one night. I'm gonna visit Strike. Anyone else?" Everyone nodded. Phyrestar pointed at Kelly. "Kelly bring your best bottle and we'll figure out a story to tell Strike on the way over. I don't know about you, but if Lilith says it's a secret, then I am ok with that." Everyone nodded and no one could shake the terror from their minds at the mere thought of her voice. Not one member of the renowned Darkphyre wanted to cross Lilith, ever..


End file.
